


Curse of the Unicorn

by LadyMiya



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-22
Updated: 2015-06-22
Packaged: 2018-04-05 15:35:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 22,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4185279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyMiya/pseuds/LadyMiya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Voldemort won the war, but he decides to keep Hermione Granger alive. Can it have something to do with her terrible secret?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [WildKitsune](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WildKitsune/gifts), [Tomione_Forum](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tomione_Forum/gifts).



> **Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J.K. Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros. Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
> 
>  **A/N:** Fic was written for the 2015 Tomione Forum Fic Exchange.

**Curse of the Unicorn**

**Chapter 1**

Voldemort was proud to say that he never succumbed to his hormones. He was always in complete control over all his urges and lusts. Nothing ever made him stray from achieving his goals of immortality and world domination. Nope, nothing at all.

So now he just had to come up with the reason as to why he had saved the Mudblood. Because it couldn't have been on a lustful whim. No, his subconscious must have thought of some really good reason as to how she would prove valuable for his goals. He just... hadn't caught up yet. Yes, that must be it.

He regarded her in silence. She was lying in a bed in the hospital wing of Hogwarts where he had his new headquarters. Potter had tried to infiltrate the school and take down Voldemort, but needless to say, he hadn't been successful. Voldemort had won and Potter and all his friends had died. Well, except for the Mudblood.

"My Lord?" Snape, who had been examining the girl, let his wand fall as he addressed his master.

"Will she live?" Voldemort asked.

"Yes, and she can make a full recovery, if you wish it, my Lord."

Voldemort frowned at the remark. "Can make?"

"She was hit with quite a few dark spells. I have saved her life, but to repair the damage, she would need Tantae Lacrimae at the very least," Snape said, his tone not indicating if he thought the Mudblood deserved such a valuable potion or not.

"Administer it," Voldemort ordered, not even thinking twice about it.

Snape bowed. "At once, my Lord."

Voldemort continued to watch the girl as Snape went back and forth, preparing the potion. Not only was it worth the Mudblood’s weight in gold, but it was tricky to deal with. It had to be kept in the same temperature all the time until it had been absorbed into the body. That meant it took a great deal of magic to even get it inside a person.

Snape was the best there was with Potions, though, so Voldemort wasn't worried. He would have the Mudblood up and cursing in no time. At least Voldemort assumed she would be cursing when she realised she had been captured. She had been vicious in the battle, killing two Death Eaters and injuring at least another five. If he hadn't seen it with his own eyes, he would hardly believe she was capable of such things.

She was so ... tiny. Especially lying in a hospital bed, her face almost as pale as the sheets. She couldn't be more than 5"6, very slender, and not much of feminine curves. Her hair was the most noticeable thing on her, really, and not in a good way. Who on earth could stand having such curly hair that seemed to have a will on its own, standing in every direction?

It suited her, though, he supposed. Despite not finding anything really remarkable with her appearance, she was pretty. She had every potential to become a real beauty, if she put down the effort.

But why was he even thinking about that? Saving her had nothing to do with her prettiness. It couldn't have. Looks only deceived, he if anyone should know that. People had trusted him just because he had been pretty, and it had more often than not led to them being killed.

So why was she so interesting to him?

"It's done," Snape said, lowering his wand. "It will remove the traces of the dark curses. If she is administered healing potions, she will be fully restored in two weeks."

"When will she wake up?" he asked.

"As soon as the curses are gone. Should be any minute."

"Good. Leave," Voldemort ordered, not even looking at Snape as he bowed and left.

They were alone. Voldemort had placed the Mudblood in a separate room in the hospital wing. He didn't want his Death Eaters to get any ideas.

He stood in silence, looking at her face for several minutes until he could see her starting to come around. Her eyelids started to wrinkle. She lips twisted into a grimace. Her hand came up to her head. She had a small wound there from when she had fallen, but it was clean now. Though, he suspected it still throbbed some.

She opened her eyes. He could see that she was disoriented. Her eyes travelled over the room slowly until they finally found him.

He had expected her to scream. Perhaps reach for the wand she no longer possessed and try to hex him. But she did neither. Emotions flew by quickly over her face. Fear and shock was evident. Her whole body tensed up, her hands clenching. But then, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. When she opened them again, he could see that she was in control. She was still scared, he could see that much, but she wasn't about to panic. Good girl.

"Why am I alive?" she asked.

It was a good question. Perfect, in fact. She wanted to know what he planned to do with her. Probably so she could prepare herself. Well, he couldn't tell her what he didn't know himself.

"Hello to you too," he responded calmly. "I don't believe we have been properly introduced. Strange, really. I've known about you for seven years now, Hermione Granger. And I'm sure you have known about me for longer than that."

"Yes. Why am I alive?" she asked again, aggravation creeping into her voice. She was probably happy to feel angry instead of afraid. He would have done the same. If he ever got scared, that was.

"Because I want you to be," Voldemort replied.

+++

Hermione had expected to be tortured as soon as she woke up. Her body already hurt, but she had braced herself for excruciating pain.

Yet, none came. After their first meeting, Voldemort had left and Hermione had tried to make it out of the bed in an attempt to escape. She hadn’t even been able to sit up. The pain when she moved made her collapse into unconsciousness again.

The next time she woke up, it was dark outside, and Snape was sitting in a chair next to her. The emotions that flew over her were confusing. She wanted to be angry at seeing Dumbledore’s murderer there. She hated him. Yet, at the same time, she was glad it wasn’t Voldemort or some other Death Eaters. She knew Snape and she knew what to expect from him. It was a comfort.

“Miss Granger,” he said. In the light from the candles, his face looked even more yellow-ish than usual. His hair was as greasy as ever and his black eyes revealed no emotions. But he wasn’t sneering, which she would have expected.

“Snape,” she intoned darkly, forcing away the impulse to call him Professor. He didn’t deserve her respect.

“The Dark Lord has assigned me with your healing. It will be easier if you cooperate,” he stated.

“Why?” she asked.

“I didn’t ask.”

They stared at each other for a moment of silence. She tried to read what he was thinking, but his face was expressionless. If anything, he looked tired, but then, he had always looked tired to some extent.

“Is the war over?” she finally asked. She already suspected the answer, but she had to know. For some reason, she thought Snape would answer truthfully.

“Yes, I’d say so,” Snape replied, confirming her fear. “Potter is dead, along with most of the Order. Most of the Weasleys too. Miss Weasley may have survived, we didn’t find her body. Lupin escaped, but he was badly injured. Bill Weasley helped him. But I doubt three people will cause the Dark Lord too much trouble.”

Hermione found that she was too exhausted to cry. It was over. They had lost.

“Why am I alive?” she asked again.

“As far as I can tell, just for the Dark Lord’s amusement. Maybe he wants a trophy that he doesn’t think will cause him too much trouble.” A humourless smile spread over Snape’s lips. “He clearly doesn’t know you.”

Hermione snorted before she could help herself. She felt a glimmer of hope return. Yes, people had always underestimated her. She had always just been Harry’s Know-It-All friend. She didn’t know why Snape had remarked on it, but he was right. If Voldemort thought he had found an easy target, he was sadly mistaken.

“You need to rest,” Snape said, rising from the chair. “But first, I need you to eat and take a few healing potions. If you resist, I will force them down your throat.”

She regarded him closely for a second. A part of her wanted to resist just to see what would happen, but thus far, Snape had been nothing but helpful. She didn’t know why, but she would play on it for as long as possible. Also, she didn’t much care for having potions forced down her throat. She just wanted to sleep some more. She was not in a position to fight right now.

But she would be.

+++

Voldemort closed the final file on Granger, concluding her sixth and last year at Hogwarts. She was remarkable for a student. All her teachers, except Snape, had nothing but good to say about her and her abilities. She would have become Head Girl in her seventh year if it weren’t for the war.

Yet, he hadn’t found anything that would make her remarkable for him. There were plenty of ambitious and talented students around the world. He had recruited several to his Death Eaters ever since he was a student. Was he merely seeing the same potential in her as he had in some of his best Death Eaters?

No, he dismissed that thought. She was Harry “Dark Arts are naughty” Potter’s friend and a Mudblood. He highly doubted she had ever thought about the Dark Arts, even less practiced it. Just because she had been vicious on the battlefield—

He frowned at that thought and then glanced down at the files. On a whim, he summoned another set of student files from the archive: his own.

Reading through them, he felt a shiver travelled down his spine. His file was just as neat. All his teachers, except Dumbledore, had had nothing bad to say against him. He had been the perfect student, ambitious and clever. Just as Granger. Could it be that she was just too clever to get caught? Or that Dumbledore had covered for her the few times she had made a mistake? Voldemort wouldn’t put it past him. Dumbledore was always quick to hide the mess of his protégées. Just as Dippet had been when Voldemort was a student.

There were only two things that set Granger apart from Voldemort. She had been sorted into Gryffindor and she had fought for the Liberation of House-elves. Even though it was the complete opposite of what Voldemort had done, he could appreciate the radicalness of her actions. She was convinced she was right and would fight for it.

It was probably her Muggle upbringing. She had come from a, as far as he could tell, loving middle class Muggle family. She had probably never seen the dark side of Muggles, as he had from such a young age. She was misguided, but there was potential.

Was this what he had recognised when he saw her? He would have to test her. Just because she was ambitious, radical and well-taught didn’t mean she had the power. If she was just mediocre like Potter had been, then he would discard of her. It wouldn’t be worth it. But if she was like him…

No, it was something else as well. He could feel it, even though he couldn’t put his finger on it. There was something about her that just … no, he would have to test her. Then it would become clear. Wouldn’t it?

He left the archive and made his way up towards the Hospital wing. Everywhere he went, his people were working to restore the castle. He wanted it up and running as soon as possible. Students had to be taught, after all. He needed many wizards and witches of his thinking if he were to take over the world.

Snape was preparing her potions when Voldemort entered her room. Granger was awake, sitting up in the bed. It had only been five days, but she was looking much better. Though, she didn’t look very happy to see him. Her eyes narrowed, but she didn’t say anything.

He turned to Snape. “What is her status?”

“As to be expected,” Snape replied calmly, not taking his eyes from the potions. It was important that they were measured correctly. “She can stay awake for several hours, physical rehabilitation can start tomorrow.”

“And how long will it take?”

“If she cooperates and nothing else interferes, just a week.” That was Snape’s subtle way of saying that he didn’t think torturing her would do them any good. Well, neither did Voldemort. Not yet at least.

Voldemort nodded and walked over to the bed, sitting down in the chair someone (probably Snape) had placed there. He knew Snape had managed to talk to the girl, and now it was time to see how far her willingness to cooperate stretched.

“How are you feeling?” he asked.

She watched him in disbelief. “Do you care?”

“I promise I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t.” At least she had got her spirit. He liked that. A lot.

“I’m still wondering why you are keeping me alive,” she finally answered, her voice having a hard edge.

“Because I’m feeling charitable,” Voldemort responded cheerfully.

Finished with the potions, Snape came up and handed Granger two bottles. She seemed reluctant to take them at first, but Voldemort saw Snape give her a stern look, and she swallowed them. It seemed liked she still had some lingering respect for Snape. Or maybe it was just old habits?

Once the bottles were gone, Snape gave her a bowl of something that looked like oatmeal and then turned to Voldemort.

“If that is all, my Lord?”

Voldemort dismissed him with a gesture of his hand. When he was gone, Granger seemed immensely interested in her food. She ate slowly, staring into the bowl.

“You are worried,” he noted calmly and as he had expected, he saw her tense up.

What he hadn’t expected was her being able to come up with a retort.

“I’m alone with the man who is responsible for the death of my friends, so obviously.”

He smiled. “But you are not worried I will kill you.”

Even though it wasn’t a question, she still shook her head and looked up at him. “If you wanted to kill me, I’d be dead already.”

“Very true,” Voldemort replied. “Do you have any idea on how you can stay on my good side, and therefore, alive?”

“I will not go over to your side,” she answered sharply.

“My dear, there are no sides anymore. I’ve won. No one will come and save you, and if you somehow manage to escape; where will you go? Hide in the Muggle world? I know you don’t have any family left, and I took the precaution to seize your savings. When I think you are ready, you can have the money back. But right now, you are completely at my mercy and I suggest you take that into account when you figure out what to do next.”

He was pleasantly surprised when she didn’t start to scream and try to curse him at once like many other Gryffindors would have done. She was angry, he could see it in the tight grip she held of the bowl and her clenched teeth, but she didn’t let the anger control her. When she finally looked at him, she wore a calculating expression.

“You still haven’t told me what you want from me. You must want something to even bother with all this,” she remarked.

He had to force himself not to let his eyes wander over her body. He couldn’t show his hand. “Truth be told, you have nothing that I want that I can’t procure another way. But I think that with time, you can think of a way to become, ah, useable for me.”

“And if I don’t?”

He shrugged and rose from his seat. “I have no qualms about killing people, Miss Granger. I thought that was clear.”

He left the room, smiling. Just because he didn’t know what he wanted from her (except the obvious), didn’t mean he couldn’t play with her until he came up with it.

+++

It took another week until Hermione was strong enough to leave the Hospital wing. Snape escorted her up to the Gryffindor tower. The sight of the castle made Hermione sad. Reparations were slowly being made, but everywhere lay bricks from destroyed walls and torn up decorations. The portraits that were still up on the walls eyed her sombrely as she passed, not saying a word.

The Gryffindor common room was in even worse shape than the corridors, but Snape led her up the stairs to her old dormitory. This one had been completely restored. However, instead of three red four poster beds, there was just one. It was surprisingly homey, with an inviting fireplace next to a lounge area like the ones there used to be in the common room. Yet, Hermione couldn’t help but feel uneasy as she stopped in the middle of the room. This was a prison.

“The Dark Lord has given you a House-elf which will take care of your everyday needs,” Snape stated in an airy voice. “However, it’s only allowed to bring you food and other pre-approved things. I will come by once a day and make sure you take your healing potions. You should be restored in just another week.”

Hermione’s eyes swept around the room again, unhappy. “So I’ll just stay here until I die?”

“Probably,” Snape answered. Despite that he had taken care of her, he still didn’t seem to think it was appropriate to be nice to her. “I will see you tomorrow, Miss Granger.”

He left. Hermione started out with exploring every inch of her room. The furniture was all comfortable and seemed to hold high quality, which surprised her. Why spend money on a Mudblood’s prison? Even the bathroom was better than the one that used to be there before. Someone had installed a bigger bathtub and a separate shower stall.

However, despite the furniture, bed set and a single roll of toilet paper, there was nothing in the room. No towels for the shower, no quills by the desk, no books on the bookshelves, or extra clothes in the wardrobe. Were these the pre-approved things Hermione had to ask the House-elf about? Or did she have to do something to earn it?

She decided to try it out straight away.

“Eh, House-elf?” she called out into thin air.

A House-elf appeared with a pop, bowing deeply in front of Hermione. “How can Franny be of service, Mistress?” she said with a high pitched voice.

“You don’t have to bow like that,” Hermione said. She almost wanted to pull off her socks and free Franny. She didn’t think life under Voldemort’s rule was easy for them. However, she was no longer sure if the House-elf would be better off elsewhere either. She remembered how hard Dobby and Winky had to work to get new work, and that had been before Voldemort was in power. Perhaps she could find another way to help the House-elves of Hogwarts?

Yes, she decided that she would take a less direct approach. If she was going to stay locked up in here, she may as well do something useful. Perhaps influence Franny and through her make the other House-elves rebel.

It was worth a shot. “Can we sit down?” Hermione asked, gesturing for the armchairs.

Franny’s eyes widened in shock. “S-sit down?”

“Yes, I’d like to talk to you some, if you have the time, and I think we would be more comfortable sitting down,” Hermione reasoned, and went to sit down, once against gesturing to Franny to take the other armchair.

Hesitating, the House-elf went to sit down, but she was looking scared.

“Have you got any orders not to talk to me?” Hermione asked as the thought hit her. She didn’t want the get Franny in trouble.

Franny slowly shook her head. “I can talk some, Mistress.”

“But there are some things you are not allowed to talk about?”

Looking even more scared, the House-elf nodded.

“Okay. Then we won’t talk about those things,” Hermione said, hoping to calm Franny down. “If there is something you aren’t allowed to answer, then just don’t say anything. Can you do that?”

Franny nodded.

“Good. How are you and the other House-elves faring now? Did any of you die in the battle?” Hermione asked.

“Some died,” Franny started slowly. “The Headmaster punished us all for being there, afterwards. Now he says that as long as we work and are good, he won’t punish us more. The Headmaster is very merciful.”

She must mean Snape, Hermione realised. Snape hadn’t said anything about still being Headmaster, and Hermione hadn’t thought about asking. Well, at least the House-elves weren’t in any immediate danger, which was good. However, she doubted the House-elves would be ready to rebel again anytime soon.

“That’s good,” Hermione said. “And now your order is to service me?”

“Yes, Mistress.”

“But you still work with the other House-elves?”

“Whenever you don’t need me, Mistress.”

“Please, call me Hermione,” Hermione said. She had always felt a bit uncomfortable being called Mistress by House-elves.

“Mistress Hermione,” Franny noted.

Hermione grimaced, but decided not to press the issue right now. “And you are only allowed to bring me things that Voldemort has approved of?”

The House-elf shuddered at Voldemort’s name. “Yes, the Dark One has given Franny many things which Mistress Hermione only has to ask for.”

“What are they?”

“Franny c-can’t say,” the House-elf stuttered, looking scared again.

“That’s okay,” Hermione said quickly, thinking. Well, she better start asking and see what Franny could give her then. “I think I’d like to have a shower. Can you bring me things I would need? Like shampoo, soap, a towel and clean clothes?”

“Yes Mistress,” Franny said, jumping off the seat, looking eager. “Franny will bring it right away.”

Said and done, Hermione didn’t even have to wait more than a minute until Franny returned, carrying a basket with the things Hermione had asked for.

“If Mistress Hermione needs anything else, just call for Franny!” the House-elf said, before disappearing again.

Hermione wondered if Franny had been so quick to leave so she wouldn’t have to sit down again.

Pushing the House-elf from her mind for now, Hermione carried the basket into the bathroom and began to unload the things. She put the standard Hogwarts shampoo and soap inside the shower and put the soft white towel on rack outside. Then she pulled out the last item.

It was a dress. Hermione frowned. She almost never wore dresses, preferring jeans and a blouse. However, if she had worn dresses, this could have been something she would wear. It was a very nice dress, looking almost old-fashion. It was navy blue, with a modest décolletage, and a simple skirt reaching down below her knees. She had also been provided with beige stockings, and white cotton underwear.

She put the clothes on the bench next to the shower for now, and started to undress. The clothes baffled her as much as the room did. Comfortable, practical and nothing she would have expected receiving while in captivity. If she had been thrown in a dungeon cell wearing rags, she would have understood. If she had been forced to wear something humiliating and degrading, she would have understood. But this?

What was Voldemort planning?

As she stepped into the shower, a thought started to form in the back of her head. Could he know? Could he have heard the rumours about her? But if he had, why would he care? It was hardly useful for him that she had a…

Or was that what he had meant when he said she should find a way to be useful to him? Did he want her to…?

No, she didn’t even want to consider it. He couldn’t know, she decided. He would have held it over her head somehow if he had known. However, she had a new problem. She would have to hide it, otherwise he would use it, she was sure of that. But it couldn’t be too hard, right? Harry and Ron had never found out, even though they had spent several months together in a tent.

The thought about Harry and Ron quickly replaced her fear of anyone discovering her secret. It still hadn’t sunken in that they were gone. She had woken up in the Hospital Wing and cried a few nights ago, but now… she was sad, but she couldn’t succumb to her grief. She had to focus on staying alive. Despite what Voldemort had said, she would of course try to escape. Perhaps try to find Ginny and Remus and then flee the country. The war may be lost, but they could still fight. Voldemort’s power hunger would make him want to control other countries, of that, Hermione held no doubt. If she could influence wizards of other countries, there may be another way to destroy Voldemort.

Heavens knows the French never seemed to mind going to war against England, and the magical Ministry in USA was just as war-happy as their Muggle counterpart. Someone would no doubt want to stop Voldemort from taking power outside of the United Kingdom.

Her mind made up, she got out of the shower and dressed. War would never be over until every single human being was dead.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

"Good morning." It was Voldemort. Hermione had heard the door open, but hadn't bothered to turn away from the window. The rain falling against the window was more fascinating than the room. She was utterly bored.

Behind her, Voldemort sighed. "Mudbloods. No manners whatsoever."

She slowly turned around, her arms crossed over her chest. "No. No manners at all. You should just let me lose in the forest to run with all the other wild animals."

He laughed. "Perhaps that would be amusing to watch. Though, I suspect you would be quite cold in this weather. You don't have much fur to speak of."

"Your concern for my well-being is touching," Hermione replied dryly. "So will today be the day you take me out of my misery and tell me why I'm alive?"

It had become something of a game between them. Hermione loathed it. She always tried a direct approach, and Voldemort would dance away from answering. Sometimes she wondered if even he knew why he kept her alive.

She had been in the Gryffindor tower for a week now, and Snape had proclaimed her recovered just two days earlier. She had half expected Voldemort to start torturing her then. That he had wanted to torture someone fully healthy. But he hadn’t. He just came by and talked every other day.

Voldemort sat down in one of the armchairs next to the fireplace and gestured for her to take a seat as well.

She fought the impulse to jump him and try to scratch out his eyes or strangle him or something. She knew it would be pointless. He had a wand, he would be able to stop her before she could reach him. She had always told Harry to keep his cool when dealing with Voldemort and not act without thinking. She was having a very hard time to follow her own advice. She was sick and tired of being locked up like this and nowadays, she just wanted to attack him to see what he would do. But she knew that it would be stupid.

Thus, she bit back the impulse, and sat down in the armchair opposite from him. Voldemort leaned back, crossing his legs and putting his hands together by the fingertips, letting them rest in his lap.

"What if I were to tell you that the reason you are here is because everyone in the Order is dead, and I just want you as a trophy?"

She didn't even blink. "If I were a trophy, you would have put me on display for other people to see. Trophies are used when you want to brag."

Did he honestly think she hadn't thought of every possible reason as to why he wanted to keep her? She hadn’t met anyone but Voldemort, Snape and Franny.

"Maybe I want my trophies for myself?" he suggested.

She shrugged. "Then I'm not a trophy, just a pet."

"Oh, so you think you are my pet?"

"No, then you would have wanted me either as something to play with, or as something obedient. You have neither played with me, nor trained me in any way."

"Maybe I just want something pretty to look at?" he asked sweetly.

She snorted in disbelief.

"You don't find yourself pretty?" he asked.

"I don't see why you would keep me alive if you only found me pretty. Do like they did in Snow White and kill me and put me inside some glass cage where I won't decay," she replied.

"So you think I think you are pretty?"

"You were the one that brought it up," she remarked, not in the mood to play this game again. He had managed to get her worked up before with ridiculous conversations that never led anywhere, but not today.

"You don't seem to be enjoying yourself here, Granger," Voldemort said, changing the subject abruptly. "Is there anything you need to make your stay more pleasant? Some books, perhaps?"

Hermione tensed. Her mind was screaming “Yes!”, but she didn’t want to show her eagerness. It was no secret that she loved to read, but she was sure that Voldemort was only asking as some form of mental torture.

“This is a school, after all,” Voldemort continued, smiling. “And you never finished your last year. Would be a shame to let all that talent go to waste.”

The hair at the back of her neck rose. “I don’t want to learn anything from you,” she said sharply.

He regarded her, still smiling. “I think you do. I think that if I were to bring you some books, you wouldn’t be able to stop yourself from reading them. In fact, I will even have a test lined up for you, in the near future.”

He rose swiftly. “Yes. You better study closely. You don’t want to fail.”

With that, he was gone, leaving Hermione staring after him in suspicion. She suspected that he was right. If he did bring her books, she wouldn’t be able to stop herself from reading them. There wasn’t much more to do here, and she was getting worried. The dreams had started again. The potions must have suppressed them somehow, because she hadn’t had them while she was in the Hospital Wing. But now they were back, as strong as ever, and it wouldn’t be long until she couldn’t stop herself anymore.

Yes, no matter what sorts of books Hermione got, it was probably best to keep herself as distracted as possible.

When Franny came with a thick volume just an hour later, Hermione was once against surprised. She had expected books about the Dark Arts, thinking Voldemort wanted to seduce her to his side with power.

This was powerful magic, but not Dark. It was about wandless magic. Voldemort must realise the danger of giving her this information. It was not something usually taught at Hogwarts since it was considered highly advanced magic. Few wizards could do it intentionally, and even then, it was often seen as impractical compared to a wand. A wand was used to focus the magic and made it less dangerous. Children often used wandless magic before they got a wand, but only when emotions were running high. Hermione had once set the bag of one of the girls in school on fire when she had teased Hermione. Another time, she had made her mother’s disgusting Brussels sprouts disappear without a trace. Her mother had blamed the dog, but Hermione knew old Dickens had been sleeping in the shed at the time.

However, ever since she got her wand, the only thing she had ever used wandless magic for was summoning her wand. Summoning things were easy, especially when you desperately needed it and it wasn’t blocked by any wards (which her wand must be now, because it hadn’t worked when she tried it). This book, though, went way beyond summoning things.

She was astonished that Voldemort would ever give her such a book. If she managed to learn this, she could probably escape. Or was this just another trick? Was he convinced that she was too weak, being a Mudblood and everything, that she wouldn’t be able to pull it off? Did he want to show off his superiority?

Because she was quite sure he had learned what was in this book. She found the flying spell in the middle of the book, the one that made you able to fly without a broomstick. She had assumed Voldemort used a wand when Harry had told her about it, but according to this, you didn’t need a wand. Just pure willpower and strong emotions such as fury, desperation or need.

Going back to the beginning again, she started to read. Emotions were important, and so was willpower and magical strength. Emotion was the fuel, though. Fury, loathing, passion, ecstasy, terror and despair was listed as the strongest emotions. You had to give yourself into one or more of those emotions and use your will to fuel the magic you wanted to do. The stronger emotions and willpower you had, the better the effect. Then you also had to learn the right techniques to do a certain kind of magic, and be able to remember them, even though strong emotions were clouding your mind.

Hermione found herself smiling. Voldemort couldn’t know her secret. If he did, he would never have given her this information. She was always full of strong emotions, either positive or negative. And it was only through her strong willpower that she managed to keep a cool head as much as she did.

This would be easy.

+++

Voldemort had made up his mind. For the past three weeks, he had tried to understand why he had saved the Mudblood, but nothing made sense.

Well, nothing except his lust. But he refused to think that it controlled him. Just because he may want to fuck her didn't mean that it was the only reason he had let her live. It couldn't be.

However, it was now clear to him that he wouldn't be able to understand what it was until he had indeed fucked her. He was too distracted by the thoughts of her body to understand what more she could be of use for. There had to be something, though. Lord Voldemort didn't do things just because his cock wanted him to do it.

But he couldn't just go in and take her. No, what was the fun in that? If he was going to fuck her, it would be because she begged him to. Because he wasn't the one that couldn't control his urges, no, she would be the one that couldn't control hers, and he would just grant her the wish of fulfilment.

He waited until she was asleep. Stepping into her room, he moved soundlessly over the floor, and pulled out his wand. He would penetrate her dreams first, make her horny.

Sitting down on the bed, he cast the spell and entered her mind.

She wasn’t dreaming anything yet. She must be in too deep state of a sleep. But as he started to enter her thoughts, she was pulled into REM-sleep.

He took control over the dream at once and conjured up a country side environment with a big red barn standing in front of Hermione. He willed her to go in through an open door by the side. The smell of hay lay heavy in the air as he followed her inside. He conjured up sounds of moans coming from deep inside, then he made Granger walk towards it.

He followed her and was pleased to see her stop and stare when she came to the vision he had conjured.

A woman (could be anyone really, her identity was unimportant in the dream) was leaning over a trestle, her dress around her waist, and arse bare for the world to see. Well, if it weren't for the man standing in the way. The man (just as none-identifiable as the woman) was ramming into her hard from behind, and they were both moaning in pleasure.

However, after just a few seconds, the woman looked to her side and saw Granger standing there. She smiled, and held out her hand for Granger to take it.

Granger went up to her, but just before she could take the offered hand, Voldemort grasped her from behind. He put one hand under her chin, making it impossible for her to look behind and see him.

"You like this, don't you?" he whispered into her ear. "To see people enjoying themselves."

"Yes, why wouldn't I?" Granger retorted sounding a bit breathless. In front of them, the man had withdrawn from the woman, and picked up a whip meant for horses. He began to slap her behind. Not with any real force, but hard enough to leave a red mark on the otherwise pale skin.

"Of course, no harm in watching," Voldemort said and used his free hand to grasp her breast. "You strike me as the kind of person who would enjoy a bit of discipline with sex. But I wonder, would you rather be on the giving or receiving end?"

"Both," she whispered. There was no lying in this dream. Why would she lie? She thought it was just a dream.

“I’m sure we can arrange that,” Voldemort mused, continuing to slowly stroke her breast through her shirt as he made the scene before them unfold.

The man used the whip to slowly caress the woman’s buttocks. Every now and again, he would whip her arse or back of her thighs. The woman whimpered and moaned, clearly enjoying herself quite a bit.

All of a sudden, the man turned the whip around and moved the hard handle against her wet cunt. The woman cried out in pleasure as he forced it inside her, slowly starting to fuck her with it.

Voldemort could feel Granger inhale deeply and he took the opportunity to make her shirt disappear, as if it had never been there. Her nipples were hard when he moved his hand over them. He wanted to take them into his mouth, but it was too early for that. Instead, he shifted the control of the dream just a tiny bit and gave Granger back some of the control. He was curious to see what she would come up with now when he had made her excited.

He was surprised, but pleased when he saw the man draw the whip back out from the woman’s cunt and up between her arse cheeks. The whip glistered with her lubrication just before he pushed it into her anal. Judging by the way the woman moaned, she was enjoying it quite a bit. Voldemort deducted that even though Granger clearly had some controversial fantasies, real pain wasn’t part of it.

The man fucked the woman with the whip for a couple of minutes, before stopping, letting it stay inside her arse as picked up another whip. The handle of this one was wider in girth, but instead of using it in a similar way as the one already inside of her, the man resumed the whipping.

The strikes fell faster this time, with a bit more force. The woman, however, seemed no worse to wear. Her moans had grown into cries of pleasure, and just when she seemed about to come, the man stopped the whipping. He waited a moment for her to calm down, then he turned the whip around and inserted it into her cunt.

Taking one whip in each hand, he started to fuck her with them in both her holes, going much faster than before.

Voldemort let his own hand move downwards from Granger’s breasts, towards her cunt.

“Now, tell me,” he said. “Which one of those would you rather be, right now?”

His moved his fingers against her cunt, finding her dripping wet.

“Her,” Granger whispered.

Voldemort snickered and decided that it was enough for tonight. He withdrew from her mind, and fell back to his own body in the bed in her room.

Granger was also waking up, but it seemed she didn’t really want to leave the dream. Her own hand had moved in between her tights, and she was stroking herself through her knickers. He would have wanted to let his hand join hers, but it was too soon. Instead, he rose from the bed and left before she had the time to wake up properly.

Just as he closed the door, he could hear her cry out in pleasure as she stroked herself to climax.

+++

When Hermione woke up the next day and went to the loo, she noticed that her knickers had been soaked and then dried during the night. She sighed as memories of the dreams returned to her. She really hoped Franny didn’t notice this when she washed Hermione’s clothes. It would be hard to explain why she continued to have arousing dreams while in captivity and Hermione didn’t want to explain that she always had wet dreams.

As she went into the shower, she tried to recall details of the dream. Even though she had clearly climaxed in her sleep, she didn’t feel as elated as she usually did. She remembered someone holding her, stroking her breasts, but there had been more than that. Had she seen someone have sex?

She leaned back against the wall of the shower and moved her hand down between her legs. Yes, she had seen a woman being whipped and fucked. Closing her eyes, she started to rub her clitoris as the visions from the dream came back to her. She needed to be able to focus once she was out from the shower, and being sexually frustrated didn’t really help.

It didn’t take more than a couple of minute before Hermione came. She knew exactly how to touch herself to come and when she stepped out of the shower, she was able to let the dream go. It was time to put her plan to escape in motion.

Getting dressed, she went back into her room. For a cell, it was not very secure. The door was locked and warded, but if she tried, she could probably have broken through the ward. However, since she would have to move down seven floors, she didn’t think it would be wise to try escaping that way. The windows however, weren’t even locked.

Though, since they were on the seventh floor, escaping through them was a lot more dangerous than going through the door. But thanks to the new book Voldemort had provided her, she didn’t have to fall to her death if she went that way. She could use her magic to glide down.

Walking up to the window, she opened it and looked down. Fear flew through her. She was awfully scared of highest, and thanks to the new book she had read, she could finally use that emotions to something. In theory, the fear would fuel her magic as she used the spell to fly. Not that she would do any real flying, no, that was much more advance and she hadn’t had a chance to test it out. The book suggested that one first tried to fly under controlled circumstances. Hermione would just do an easier version, glide and then turn herself invisible and flee into the Forbidden Forest. Once there, she would walk until she no longer felt the Anti-Apparation wards and then Apparate to London. There, she would use Muggle means to escape to France.

It was a good enough plan, she decided. Voldemort had been by yesterday and he never came two days in a row. If she was lucky, they wouldn’t even notice that she was gone until lunch.

However, as she started to make her way out of the window, she started to question her sanity. If the book was a fake, or if she hadn’t learned the spell correctly, she would die. However, from everything she had heard about wandless magic, and had now read, this would work. Even Neville had survived a fall from a window by accidentally using magic. This was more controlled than that, but even if she failed with the spell, her magic would protect her.

But bloody hell, it was high, and the fear threatened to cloud her mind too much.

She took a deep breath and embraced the fear, using it to fuel the magic. It felt a bit like starting a car. She could feel the magic run through her whole body as she started to mutter on the spell that would make her control the magic.

She jumped.

She had promised herself not to scream, but when a second past, and her magic still hadn’t kicked in, she couldn’t help herself. She was very glad she had used the bathroom before doing this. She screamed, and another second passed, then she felt it. Her magic was tingling through her whole body. The speed of her fall decreased. She could control her body and made herself glide forward, away from the castle. She moved her arms up, as if she was diving into a swimming pool.

She landed, unharmed, on the ground. It felt as if hours had passed, but it couldn’t have been more than a few seconds. Her whole body was still shaking, but she forced herself to stand up straight. Someone could have heard her scream. She had to make herself invisible and run.

She started to embrace another emotion: need. Alas, she hadn’t even started to recite the spell until she heard someone move towards her from behind. She spun around. Voldemort was coming at her from the castle. He must have been standing outside this whole time, because he didn’t appear to have hurried.

“Miss Granger. What a pleasure running into you,” Voldemort said, and she could see that he was holding his wand.

Hermione tried to make a run for it, but ropes appeared around her ankles, forcing her legs together. She fell and winced in pain when her hands made contact with the ground.

“Why, it seems like you want to get away from me,” Voldemort commented, reaching her just as she managed to sit up. “Have my hospitality not been to your satisfaction?”

She glared at him, and tried to undo the magical binding around her legs. They wouldn’t budge an inch.

“Because please, if there is anything I can do to make your stay more pleasurable…” He crouched in front of her, his wand coming up under her chin, forcing her to look at him. “Don’t hesitate to ask.”

She looked at him again, and realisation hit her. “You knew!”

He looked at her innocently. Well, as innocently as one could look with burning red eyes and no nose. “Knew what?”

“You gave me that book because you knew I’d attempt this,” Hermione said angrily. She should have known when he had told her he would test her. In retrospect, it was laughable that she had ever thought she had a chance to get away.

“Yes, well, I said I would test you,” he said, confirming her thought. “You are strong, Miss Granger. And brave, despite the screaming.”

He undid the binding around her ankles and grabbed her hand, pulling her up with him.

“So you were just testing my strength? Why?” she asked, trying to pull her arm away from his grip, but he didn’t let go.

“Because I can. Because I want to. No reason really,” he answered in a light tone and forced her to walk with him towards the castle entrance. “You are not the only one who is easily bored, Miss Granger.”

They entered the castle, and for the first time, Hermione got a glimpse on how many were actually there. What surprised her most was that there were still students there. When they saw Voldemort, they stopped and bowed, and didn’t look up until he had passed. However, she could feel their eyes on her back, and hear them whispering. It made her cheeks flush red. She didn’t want to be seen as a prisoner, on Voldemort’s leash. She wanted to fight him and—

“A new prisoner, my Lord?” Hermione felt her blood grow cold when she recognised the man who had approached her. Dolohov. Her hand unwittingly flew up against her chest, as if he had struck her with the curse again.

“Not new, precisely, my little Mudblood tried to escape. I’m merely bringing her back inside,” Voldemort said, sounding amused.

Dolohov eyed her with a hunger that made Hermione want to run and hide. “I could help out with her punishment, my Lord. If you want to.”

“I don’t. And as I recall, you are supposed to be on your way out on a mission, Antonin,” Voldemort remarked.

“Of course, my Lord. Maybe next time.” He bowed again, and with a last hungry look on Hermione, he walked passed them.

Not until he had turned the corner was Hermione able to inhale again.

“I see it as quite the insult that you fear him more than me, Miss Granger,” Voldemort mused and gripped her shoulder.

Hermione jumped. In her fear she had almost forgotten that he was still there. She didn’t reply, though. What did he expect her to say?

He pushed her forward and the rest of their journey up to her room was uneventful. Once there, he simply shoved her inside and locked the door behind her. She could hear his footsteps as he walked away.

She let out a suppressed shriek and kicked the side of the armchair. She hated that she had been played. What was she supposed to do now then? Study the book more and be ready to duel him wandlessly the next time she jumped out the window?

Groaning, she lay down on the bed. Why was he keeping her here? Just to test her? Or was this all some plan to get her to join him? But why would he even want her to join him? She stood for everything he and his Death Eaters hated. Muggleborn, Gryffindor, friends of Harry Potter and just…

A terrible thought hit her. Perhaps it was more to her secret than she herself knew. When she had first discovered that she was a bit different, she had thought it must be something horrible. That she was sick in some way, to feel the way she felt and do the things she did. She had read everything she could about it and after a year of reading both Muggle and Wizard material, she had decided that she wasn’t sick. She was just not within the normal range of… those things. But it was still common when you hit puberty to start feeling different, and it had all started just after she got her first period.

Her mind travelled back to that horrible night.

She had been twelve and it had been her first year at Hogwarts. She and Harry had been on detention in the Forbidden Forest. They had been searching for a wounded unicorn and Harry had found it. Voldemort had actually been there too, a parasite in Quirell’s head. Hermione hadn’t seen him, but she had seen what he had done to the unicorn. She had followed Hagrid as he picked up the unicorn. It had already been dead, its silver blood running over the ground. Hermione had cried, silently as Hagrid prepared its funeral. And as she had cried, she had suddenly felt something running down her leg.

Thinking that she had lost control over her bladder, she had hurried behind a tree, wanting to clean up the mess with her wand before anyone noticed. Malfoy had been there, and she could just imagine what sort of horrible things he would say if he noticed.

However, as she pulled down her trousers, she had been horrified to see blood. After a moment of terror, she realised what it must be, her period. Her mother had told her all about it, and she had read about it as well. But nothing could have prepared her for the shock.

She had cleaned it up and stuffed her knickers with white bog moss which had thankfully been growing right next to her. Once they were back at Hogwarts and Harry and Ron had gone to bed, she had sneaked off to the hospital wing and got pads from Madam Pomfrey.

Madam Pomfrey had also had the talk about how Hermione would go through “changes” and have “urges” now when she was reaching womanhood. Pomfrey had even gone so far as to teach Hermione the contraceptive spell that same night. However, she told Hermione to wait a few years before she got use of it.

Pomfrey hadn’t mentioned anything about what to do when you changed more than your peers, though. Parvati and Lavender had talked a lot about their changes, but as far as Hermione could tell, they had never had their magic malfunction or being ten times strong all of a sudden. And they never had to—

A pop announced the arrival of Franny. “The Dark One ordered me to bring you lunch, Mistress Hermione.”

Hermione got off the bed and went over to the coffee table where Franny sat up the dish. As always, it was enough to fill her stomach, and smelled really good. Today, it was sausages with mashed potatoes, and, to her surprise, chocolate pudding for dessert.

“The Dark One says that it’s your reward for passing his test,” Franny said, pointing at the pudding. “He also says that if you don’t eat it, I will h-have to b-burn my hands.”

Hermione stared at Franny. “What? Have he hurt you before for something I’ve done?”

Franny quickly shook her head. “No Mistress Hermione. The Dark One just wants to make sure you eat it.”

“Is it something dangerous in it?”

“No! Franny made it herself.”

Hermione frowned at the pudding. Then why was he threatening the House-elf? Why was it important to him that she ate a bloody pudding? Or was this his way of telling her that he knew about S.P.E.W and was ready to harm the House-elves if she didn’t know what he wanted?

Fuming, she still thanked Franny for bringing her the food and promised she would eat every single drop of the chocolate pudding.

The sweet taste of the chocolate was tainted by his threat when she ate it. Though she realised why he would think she wouldn’t have wanted to. She didn’t want to get rewarded for passing his test. She didn’t want to be a part of his games.

After lunch, she picked up the book about wandless magic and her mind returned to her secret and whether Voldemort knew something about it or not. He had known she would master the spells, and had apparently thought it would happen quickly, judging by how fast he had been there to catch her again. Did that mean he knew about her strong emotions?

Before she had a chance to start reading, the door opened again, and Voldemort stepped through.

“How come you are willing to torture House-elves but not me?” Hermione asked, unable to hide her anger.

He smiled and took a seat opposite from her. “My dear, I know what happened when Bella tortured you. It’s clear that brute force won’t work. But I have many other ways.”

“Like tricking me into thinking I could escape?”

“For example. But that was hardly torture, just a simple experiment.”

“For what?” Dread filled her again. What did he know?

“You are a very strong witch for your age, Miss Granger. Not to mention cunning and resourceful.” Was he looking proud? Why would he look so proud? It scared her.

“So?”

He leaned forward, suddenly looking very curious. “You are hiding something. Something you think I’ll find interesting.”

“I was on the other side of the war, I know a lot of things I don’t want you to find out,” Hermione retorted, not liking the way he looked at her one bit.

“No, something about you.” He watched her intensely for a few more seconds, and then leaned back again. “I will find out, in due time. I’m not here to find out your secrets. I’m here to discuss your lessons.”

Hermione didn’t know if that was a more pleasant subject. “What lessons?”

“Didn’t we already establish that you are at a school, and thus, you should learn? As you have seen, there are other students here. But I feel that you are on a higher level than they are. Therefore, I am the only one suitable to teach you.”

She stared at him, baffled. “And the Dark Lord has nothing better to do than teach an eighteen year old Muggle-born?”

“The Dark Lord works in mysterious ways,” Voldemort said, winking.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Even though Voldemort had told her he would be teaching her, he didn’t actually do a lot of teaching. The following week, all he did was sending more books for Hermione to read. They were surprisingly common, if advanced. Transfiguration theories, the usage of astronomy in Arithmancy calculations, how to brew perfect potions and essays on experimental Charms. None of it was in any way connected to the Dark Arts, which Hermione had assumed.

Since she didn’t have a wand, she couldn’t test any of the things she read. However, Voldemort told her to practice her wandless magic, and she did. Even though it was clear that Voldemort thought it was safe to teach her, Hermione was still sure it was her best bet to escape.

She was also in a hurry to escape. Her special urges were becoming worse, and it wouldn’t be long until she would have to do something more drastic. Otherwise, she would have a harder time focusing on her studies, and her magic would start running amok. She knew that if she gave in to the urges, her magic would become stronger for a little while. However, it was not worth the risk of Voldemort walking in on her and seeing what she did. He would no doubt ask questions and then he would figure out what she was hiding.

Unless he already knew. Sometimes, she got the feeling he did, but it could just be her paranoia. For over a year, she had thought that Harry and Ron had figured it out and was talking about her behind her back. When she had finally confided in Ginny, the summer before her fourth year at Hogwarts, the younger girl had eased her worries. Harry and Ron was both way too clueless to notice such a thing.

Ginny had also gone a long way to comfort Hermione and make her see that she wasn’t sick or wrong. In fact, Ginny said that Hermione could use this to her advantage and given her several examples.

Hermione missed Ginny. The knowledge that she was alive, but hurt, was harder than knowing that Harry and Ron were dead. She worried about Ginny. Had she got any help? Was Remus with her? Had they escaped the country? Would she ever see them again? Even if she managed to escape, there was no telling she would find them.

Her depressed thought was interrupted by the door opening. Snape came in, looking grim.

“The Dark Lord has assigned me with the unpleasant task of being your teacher,” Snape informed her.

Hermione was surprised by his tone. He had been so civil when he was saving her life, why the sudden change? Did he hate teaching so much?

“He has informed me that you show promise within the art of wandless magic. We shall see about that,” Snape continued, striding into the room, the door slamming shut behind him.

Hermione rose at his gesture and came over to him.

“We will start with defence. You are to conjure up a ward as I attack you. It is within your best interest to keep it intact,” Snape said, withdrawing his wand.

She eyed the wand. “It hardly seems fair to attack me with a wand, Sir, I haven’t had a chance to practi—”

Her argument was cut short by Snape hitting her with a stinging hex. She yelped and jumped away from him.

“Do keep in mind that I’m the Headmaster of this school now, not Dumbledore. There won’t be anyone listening to your whining of unfair treatment, Miss Granger,” Snape said softly.

At the mention of Dumbledore, Hermione felt anger flare in her chest. Just because Snape had saved her life and restored her to health didn’t mean she had stopped hating him for killing Dumbledore. It still felt like a personal insult to her. Teachers were supposed to teach, not kill. She had not forgiven Snape for breaking her trust like that.

She used the anger to fuel the spell for personal wards. It was a relatively easy spell to do. Like every other instinct in the body, magic was good at self-preservation. Therefore it was a lot easier to protect oneself, than attack another.

The next spell Snape sent in her direction was neutralised by her shield. She crossed her arms over her chest and stared at him. The longer she looked at him, the angrier she became. She recalled all the horrible things he had done to her and her friends as a teacher. All the mean things he had said to her. Insufferable Know-It-All. How she had stood up for him because he was a teacher. And then how he had turned out to be a Death Eater.

She remembered the last time she had seen him, before Harry died. They had come to Hogwarts, ready to destroy the final Horcrux of Voldemort. Voldemort had beaten them to it, though, and he and Snape had managed to turn the school’s defences against them. If Snape had just been the double-spy Dumbledore thought, then they would have won. If Snape hadn’t played them all—

Her anger turned into cold blooded fury and without even meaning too, her defensive ward turned offensive. It lashed out toward Snape like lightening, striking him in the stomach. He flew back against the wall and sank down to the floor, seemingly unconscious.

Alarmed, Hermione tried to break free of the spell, but her magic had started to run amok. It lashed out, all around her, blowing out the glass in the window, setting one of the armchairs on fire and striking a hole in the ceiling.

Crying out, she fell down on her knees and pressed the palm of her hands over her eyes. She tried to focus on her breathing; if she just managed to calm down, then the magic would stop.

Slowly, the magic started to slow down. The lightening disappeared, turning into soft cracks around her. After another few minutes, even that disappeared.

Carefully, Hermione looked up. She winced at the damage. Snape was still unconscious, and something needed to be done about the fire.

“Franny,” she whispered, her voice strained.

The House-elf appeared.

“Please, help me,” Hermione begged.

+++

When Voldemort came back to Hogwarts after a meeting at the Ministry, the first thing he heard was that Snape was lying unconscious in the Hospital Wing. Intrigued, he went there at once.

His minion had just woken up, and was in a foul mood.

“The girl is out of control,” Snape greeted him. “Extremely dangerous.”

Voldemort ran a diagnostic over Snape’s body. On the outside, he didn’t seem worse to wear, but Voldemort picked up signs of him having been struck by lightning. The healing potions seemed to be doing their work, though. Snape would be up and about the very next day, Voldemort assumed.

“You disappoint me, Severus,” Voldemort said with a sigh. “If you can’t even teach one girl, how can I trust you to be Headmaster?”

Snape’s face turned pink. “I never had any problems before. There is something strange going on with her, my Lord.”

Deciding it was time to meet the Mudblood again, Voldemort left Snape side and went up to the Gryffindor tower. Not that there were any other Gryffindors there. He had abolished all school houses and divided them into different common room after age instead. The Sorting Hat had been locked away indefinitely.

When he entered Granger’s room, he was met with destruction. One armchair had been completely destroyed; there were black soot marks all over the floor, walls and ceiling, and the window has been destroyed, letting in a soft summer breeze.

Granger, who was sitting in the whole armchair, met his eyes with a scared expression. However, she quickly tried to control herself and crossed her arms, looking away.

He restored the other armchair with a flick of his wand and sat down in it.

“I see you had an eventful first lesson,” Voldemort stated. “Though, I seem to recall that it was only meant to be a practice in defence.”

“He made me angry,” Granger muttered, looking at the cold fireplace.

“Yes, I can see that. I knew Snape disliked you, but I hadn’t realised how mutual the feeling was. You seemed to get along fine in the Hospital Wing.”

She shrugged. “Snape seems to get in a foul mood when he has to teach.”

“And you seem to get in an equally foul mood having to be taught by him.”

“I guess,” she mumbled.

He regarded her in silence for a moment. “I’m surprised you aren’t attacking me right now. Is it merely because you don’t hate me as much as Snape, or something else?”

He could see her pressing her lips together. Something else, then. Perhaps she hadn’t intended to hurt Snape at all, but her magic had got the better of her? That was a risk when using wandless magic which was fuelled on emotions. However, once she started to lose control, the anger should have disappeared and she should have just lost the defensive ward. It shouldn’t have turned offensive if she didn’t mean it.

“Come here,” he ordered her.

She seemed to want to disobey him, but lucky for her, she didn’t. She came to stand in front of him. He grabbed her wrist, intending to magically search her body for signs of magical malfunction. However, once he touched her, it felt as if an electric spark had gone through her. He hissed and let go as she winced, stumbling backwards.

“What was that?” he asked, angry of being caught off guard.

“I didn’t mean to,” Granger said, frightened. She looked sincere.

“Do you often lose control over your magic?” he asked, taking her wrist again, this time being prepared for the spark.

“Sometimes, when I’m stressed,” she said. It was a lie. Well-rehearsed, but still a lie.

Voldemort, however, didn’t bother calling her out on it right away. He was having another problem. The spark he had got the second time had travelled through his body and right down to his groin. It was distracting, but he forced himself to focus on the diagnosis. Once it was done, he let go of her.

“An accident, then,” he decided, rising. He didn’t want her to see his predicament. “Good. I would hate to have to punish you, Miss Granger.”

Granger moved away from him, and it was clear that she didn’t believe him. She was probably right not to believe him on his words. Yet, he didn’t feel like punishing her. No, he only wanted to fuck her.

But not yet. However, he would have to pay her a nightly visit again. It was time to speed things up.

Thus, after midnight, Voldemort got into her room again. He closed the door behind him, using a bit of force to see if she woke up. She didn’t. Excellent, she hadn’t noticed the sleeping drug in her evening tea.

He got onto the bed and for a moment he just watched her breathe, with no idea that he was here or what he was about to do.

Moving his hand to her cheek, he used his index finger to stroke it all the way down to her lips. Her mouth was a little open, and when he traced the outline of her lips, she let out a soft sigh. Her head fell to the right, towards him, but she didn’t wake up.

She looked a lot less peaceful this night than the other, he decided. There were a slight frown between her eyebrows and her breathing came harder. Perhaps she was dreaming nightmares? It was time to check.

He entered her mind again, as effortless as the last time. The view that met him surprised him greatly. It was no nightmare. Granger was sitting on a throne-like chair, and in front of her, two men were undressing each other. Or rather, tearing the clothes from each other. Their lips met in a violent kiss just as the white man managed to pull off the pants of the black man. The kiss broke, and the black man pushed the other down on his knees. His cock stood, ready for attention and the white man greedily took it into his mouth.

Voldemort walked up Granger. Her focus was on the two men, and her hand was inside her trousers. He had assumed the dream he made her experience last week was unusual for her, but it seemed like it wasn’t. Well, that suited him just fine.

“Don’t you think you would be more comfortable without those?” Voldemort remarked and willed her trousers away.

They disappeared, but before Granger had time to look at him, he placed his hand on her head, hindering her to see him.

“It’s you again,” she said softly, but didn’t try to look. Instead, she continued to watch the two men. The white man was now deep-throating the other man’s cock as he moaned in pleasure.

“You called to me,” Voldemort lied effortlessly. “Do you want any help with that?”

She nodded, apparently knowing what he meant. Without looking at him, she rose, giving him room to sit behind her. He pulled her down in his lap, her legs on either side of his. He started to stroke her thigh, but that was clearly to slow for her. She moved his hand up against her cunt.

“Patience,” he said, but let his hand rest there, using his index finger to stroke the outside of her labia. “Enjoy the show instead.”

She sighed, but leaned back, her hands falling down.

The couple in front of them were now completely naked, and it appeared like the blowjob was over. The black man moved the other man around and used his cock, lubricated with the white man’s saliva, to enter him anally. It was slow at first, the white man moaning louder for every other inch that went inside him.

In Voldemort’s lap, Granger let out a purr. Voldemort started to tease the opening of her cunt with his middle finger.

“You seem to have a thing for analsex, my dear,” he noted. “Who would have guessed that from a goody-two-shoe such as you?”

The view in front of them started to flicker. Voldemort recognised it as a memory trying to break through. His comment had made her remember something.

A male voice broke through. “—Would be wild.” He didn’t recognise it, but it sounded young. It was definitely a teenager.

“Yes, I think so too,” another male voice was heard, he didn’t recognise it either. “Okay. So how about Hermione Granger?”

Several snorts were heard. “Granger? She’s such a goody-two-shoe that she’d probably run away screaming if she saw a cock. Or worse, start naming all the parts in Latin or something.”

More laughter was heard, until a female voice broke through. “No, I don’t think so. I think she was the first one to lose her virginity in our year.”

“What makes you think that, Lavender?” one of the male voices asked.

“Well, she had that thing with Krum, right? And I once saw her hide one of those Muggle sex toys in her trunk. She didn’t want to admit that it was one, but I recognised it from that time we were in that Muggle London sex shop.”

“Wow, so Granger is not as prudish as she looks?”

“’Course not. It’s always the proper ones that have the dirtiest sex, you know.”

The memory faded away, and was replaced with the two men again. The black man was riding the other one harder now, one hand on the other ones cock, stroking it just as fast.

“So you like masturbating with toys,” Voldemort purred into her ear, finally entering her with his middle finger.

“I have to have it,” Granger answered with a gasp. “I can’t go long without wanking off. My magic starts to malfunction if I try. And why would I not want to when it makes me feel so much better? I can handle everything after a good wanking.”

Her magic malfunctioned if she didn’t get sexual release? Voldemort had never heard anything like it. That must be what she had wanted to hide when she told him it was just stress. He could see why someone like her would think it embarrassing. And it was definitely a weakness.

“So you are horny all the time?” Voldemort asked, stopping his movements inside of her.

“More or less,” Granger responded, grinding her hips, clearly wanting him to move his finger.

“You must have had sex with a lot of people,” he remarked.

Granger growled. “Why would I do that?”

“If your magic malfunctions—”

“I need to climax,” Granger cut him off. “Boys never know what to stimulate and it just gets messy. I rather do it myself.”

He started to move his finger again, slowly. “You must have had sex with very inexperienced boys.”

She shrugged. “I’ve only had sex with three boys. I didn’t see the point of continue to have sex with other people when none of them managed to get me off.”

“Who did you have sex with?” he asked, curiously.

“Viktor Krum, Mark Hanning and David, something.”

“Krum the Quidditch player?” Voldemort remembered reading about Granger and Krum back in her fourth year. Nothing turned on the rumour mill as famous people’s love life. Or well, Granger had only been semi-famous back then.

“Yes, we had sex when I was fifteen.”

“And who were the other two boys?” Voldemort couldn’t recall reading about any students at Hogwarts by those names.

“Muggles I met over the summer holidays,” she answered. “Go faster, will you?”

He obliged and also pushed two more fingers inside her, massaging her clit with his thumb. She came undone, gasping in pleasure, her head thrown back against his shoulder.

Before she had time to come down, he withdrew from the dream and came back to his own body. Hermione was flushed, and breathing hard, yet still fast asleep. Once again, her own hand had found its way between her legs.

He regarded her with a frown. She clearly had a very strong sex drive, but how could it be entwined with her magic? He had never read anything about it. There were spells designed to fuel the sex drive and then there were magical rituals that could only be performed during sex. But never had he heard about sex making magic malfunction. She had also said that she could use magic better after she had masturbated, but he didn’t know how that manifested. Perhaps she was just imagining things. It shouldn’t be possible.

His thoughts were interrupted by her moans. She had managed to toss her cover off her and was rubbing her cunt feverishly. He felt his cock strain against his robes, and before he had time to stop himself, he moved his hand down to join hers. Pushing the crotch of her knickers aside, he pushed a finger inside her.

Granger gasped in pleasure, her back arching. Voldemort groaned too at the feeling of her hot, wet flesh around his finger. He wanted her. No, it was more than that, he needed her. Every fibre of his being was screaming at him to just take her there. Remove their clothes and embrace her, sink his cock into her pulsing cunt and never leave again.

He would show her the difference between boys and men. He would fuck her until she couldn’t see straight. Until her voice were gone from the screaming in multiple orgasms. She wouldn’t be able to walk for days. He wouldn’t leave a single inch of her flesh untouched. Penetrate her in every way possible. Take her until—

She came, crying out. He hadn’t realised he had fucked her hard with his fingers. Quickly, he withdrew them and got off the bed.

He had almost lost control over himself. That never happened. How could this girl affect him so?

Not wanting to admit how scared he was, he wiped his fingers clean on the inside of his robe and left the room. No, he couldn’t be scared. He was just eager to find out what this mean. Yes. He left because he needed to research, not because he was scared. Lord Voldemort didn’t get scared.

+++

When Hermione woke up the next morning, she was covered in sweat from yet another highly erotic dream. Had she been a part of a threesome?

At least she felt better than yesterday. She must have had a good climax that night, because she felt her magic sing inside of her. That was the best metaphor she could use. She didn’t really like metaphors since she preferred to describe things the way they were, without adding an emotional connotation to it. But she hadn’t read the right term to describe how her magic felt inside of her when she had climaxed. It was just … a happy, powerful song.

She had just sat down to eat her breakfast when the door opened and Voldemort stepped through. He didn’t say anything, just sat down on the armchair at the opposite side of the coffee table from her.

“Please, don’t let me disturb your breakfast,” Voldemort said sweetly. “I’m just here for some tea.”

He transformed a mug for himself and poured some tea from the container on the table. Hermione slowly went back to eat her own food. She was always starving after a long night of imaginary sex.

However, she found it quite distracting to have him there. He seemed so … smug. Once again she got the feeling that he knew her secret. But why would he care? Even if he did know about her unusual strong sex drive with weird side-effects, why would he care? It only affected her.

“You never eat the cinnamon buns, or the pancakes for breakfast,” Voldemort noticed, interrupting her thoughts. “Don’t you like it?”

“I don’t like sweet things for breakfast,” Hermione answered, shortly.

“Ah, yes. Your parents are dentists,” Voldemort said thoughtfully.

Hermione stiffened, all thoughts about sex disappearing. Had Voldemort found her parents? Was he going to use them like he was using the House-elves? Threatening to harm them unless she did his bidding?

“Yes,” she just responded, her heart throbbing harder in fear. He couldn’t find her parents. They didn’t even know themselves, how could he find them?

“I found it quite strange that they just up and left like that,” Voldemort continued casually. “Just leaving the country. But then, I suspect you have something to do with that? No one seems able to find them.”

“No one will,” Hermione replied, still half convinced he would spring them on her at any second.

“No, I called off the search for them quite early on. They are just Muggles after all, and I hardly expect them to be able to tell me anything of interest about you. Muggles don’t understand magic.”

Hermione didn’t say anything, but her heart rate was slowing down. He seemed to tell the truth. Her parents were safe.

“In fact, I have all the information I need about your magical abilities. Did you know that all your professors make evaluations about all their students at the end of each term? Yours were quite entertaining to read,” he said with amusement in his voice. “Such … thoroughness from such an early age. You must spend a lot of time study. How did you keep your focus for so long?”

She stiffened, the truth was that if she took a ten minute wanking break, she got enough energy and focus to study for several hours. Did he know?

He held her gaze as he took a final sip from his tea, before placing the mug on the table. “I’m curious to see if you would still be able to keep your focus if I were your teacher.”

She relaxed just a little. Right, he had been talking about the teaching.

“I’m certain there is nothing I’d like to learn from you,” Hermione answered, her voice was firm, but inside she wasn’t so sure. The books he had given her was really interesting and not at all about the Dark Arts. Just because he was the Dark Lord didn’t mean he didn’t know other things.

“And I’m certain you are wrong,” he replied calmly and stood up.

“Just like that, you are leaving again?” Hermione asked, rising as well. She didn’t know why she did it, but he had thrown her off balance. And she was sick of these mind games. Why didn’t he just come out and tell her what he wanted? Why was he playing with her?

“Well, I am the Dark Lord, Granger. I have places to be, people to kill…,” he trailed off, winking at her and then started to walk towards the door.

“And I’ll just stay in here until I die?” she called at his back, her hands turning into fists. Deep down, she could hear a small voice reminding her to keep her cool, not do anything rash.

He didn’t respond. Instead, he opened the door. “Have a nice day, Granger.”

It made her snap. She threw herself after him, not even knowing what she wished to accomplish with it. All she could feel was that she needed to take out her frustration on someone, and he was the only one at hand.

Her attack was cut short. He must have sensed what she was doing, because, she hadn’t even touched him when he spun around, grabbed her arm and threw her against the door, using her to shut it again. She grunted in pain when her nose made contact with the wood. Voldemort twisted her arm up behind her and used his own body to press her harder against the wall.

“I wondered how long it would take for you to snap,” Voldemort murmured into her ear. “You kept it up for longer than I had thought.”

“I don’t want to play this game anymore,” Hermione spat back. “Tell me why you are keeping me here.”

“What if I told you and you didn’t like the answer?” he asked.

“I’m sure I won’t like the answer, I just need to know.” She hated that desperation had crept into her voice.

“But what if there is no secret plan? What if this is just my way to torture you. I know you, Miss Granger. You could stand any sort of physical torture and not reveal a word. You’d rather die than betray your friends, and no amount of beatings will change that. So what if I decided to just do … nothing. Not give you anything to fight, or any reason to complain, until you are so insanely tired of it that you give in and join me.”

Hermione shivered. Could that be it? Was this just another form of torture?

“But now I know,” she mumbled. “If I know, I can fight it.”

Voldemort chuckled and spun her around, grasping her upper arms, still pressing her against the door. His leaned down so their faces were almost touching.

“Yes, please fight. I expect you to keep this up for at least a couple of months. But are you sure you’ll still be fighting a year from now? Two years? I’m in no hurry. No one is going to take you from me. You’re assumed dead, Miss Granger. Just as everyone else they left behind after the battle.”

“Your Death Eaters have seen me,” she said, fumbling for hope. “You can’t stop them from talking. They’d want to brag.”

“You are severely underestimating my control over my Death Eaters. And if anyone were to doubt … well, I’m sure I can arrange a corpse that looks exactly like you.” With a smile, he leaned back. “So keep fighting, dear. Keep trying to run. You may even try to attack me again if you wish it. I do enjoy having pretty women throwing themselves at me.”

With another wink, he removed her from the door, opened it and left her alone again.

Hermione stared after him. Had he just called her pretty? Yes. He most definitely had. And if she hadn’t been mistaken, he seemed to have enjoyed that little tussle against the wall. Voldemort was attracted to her.

That thought should disgust her, she knew that. But it didn’t. Instead, she saw an opportunity. A new escape plan started to take form. A completely insane escape plan. But she had to do it. If he was telling the truth about just waiting her out, then nothing would change. She would keep fighting, but for how much longer? How much longer before she gave up completely?

No, she had to get out from here.

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

Voldemort smiled as he left Granger’s room. She had noticed his hard-on, he was certain on it. And she hadn’t looked disgusted or horrified. That was a really good sign. If it had anything to do with her overactive sex-drive, he didn’t care. She would be begging him to take her soon enough. And then he would finally get her out from underneath his skin.

He was on his way to his chambers to take care of himself when a portrait on the wall stopped him to inform him that the Headmaster had something important to tell him.

Cursing under his breath, he willed the erection away as he made his way up to the Headmaster’s tower. If Snape had something really important to say, he wanted his mind clear. If he didn’t, then Voldemort wanted his mind clear as he cursed Snape.

Reaching Snape’s office, Voldemort saw that someone else was there as well. It was a student, seventh year, if he wasn’t mistaken. She looked nervous to be in his presence, her fingers constantly playing with a stray of her thick raven black hair.

“My Lord, this is Miss Ossises. She was assigned to help Sibyl Trelawney move from the Hospital wing up to her quarters,” Snape explained. “She believes she heard a prophecy.”

Voldemort arched his eyebrow, both interested and worry. When he had discovered that it was Trelawney that had spoken the prophecy about him and Potter, he had decided to keep her around. Her warning to kill Potter had helped him before, even though it had given him a backlash at first. If Trelawney had spoken another prophecy about him, he would be much more careful.

“And what did Trelawney say?” Voldemort asked, looking at Ossises.

Ossises cleared her throat. “Headmaster Snape helped me remember it completely. It went like this:

_“The Blessed one will rise from the ashes of her people._

_The Blessed one will rise and the Cursed one will drown in her arms._

_The Horned one will be avenged.”_

Voldemort frowned at her. “That was all?”

Ossises nodded. “Trelawney came too after that and didn’t remember a thing she had said. Headmaster Snape had already told me to come straight to him if she said anything strange.”

“Very well, thank you, Miss Ossies, you will be rewarded for your loyalty.” He dismissed her with a gesture of his hand.

A dark flush spread over Ossies’s cheeks as she bowed and hurried away. Voldemort was pleased that there were some students at the school who didn’t have a problem with him being in power. It would be easier for them that way.

“Who do you think it’s about, my Lord?” Snape asked, and Voldemort could tell that he was curious.

Voldemort eyed him suspiciously. He had an idea of who it was about, but he didn’t want Snape to know that. Ossies couldn’t possibly know, so she was safe, but Snape could draw the right conclusion.

“It’s too little information to know for sure,” Voldemort stated. “Put a guard at Trelawney, a House-elf that doesn’t draw attention to it. Let’s see if she has anything more to say.”

“Right away, my Lord,” Snape said, inclining his head.

Voldemort left again. He had more things to read up on. Because he was quite sure that this prophecy was about him. However, he could potentially have been cursed in more ways than he could count, by several different people. Since he hadn’t noticed anything affecting him, he was sure that none of the curses had actually worked. Perhaps “cursed” just meant that he was marked for death, or whatever. The people could have sent this “blessed” one to take out their revenge. So who would be avenged?

+++

Hermione was nervous. Voldemort hadn’t been by since she had tried to attack him, and it was several days ago. If he was attracted to her, why hadn’t he been by more often? In fact, why hadn’t he just… taken her? Not that she wasn’t glad she hadn’t, she almost felt sick at the thought of being raped. However, Voldemort didn’t have anything against killing and torturing, so she couldn’t see why he would be against raping.

It was probably another mind game. Perhaps he thought that she would be more likely to join his side if she initiated it? Though, she was no longer sure it was his plan to sway her to the dark side. If he wanted to have sex with her, then he was probably just keeping her around so he could have it. And the only mind game was that he wanted her to live with the humiliating fact that she had given in.

Well, he would have to think he had won. Yes, if he thought he had won, she was more likely to go through with her plan.

She felt a shudder go through her. Even though she had made up her mind about her plan the very moments it entered her head, she was still worried. He wasn’t the most … pleasant man. Hardly a man at all. The thought of kissing him almost made her sick, but hopefully, she wouldn’t have to do that. You didn’t have to kiss to … fuck.

She grimaced at the word. No matter how many times she masturbated, she still didn’t feel comfortable with the whole having-sex-part. It was just always so awkward and she never knew where to begin or how to do it. Viktor was the only one who had actually showed her what he liked, since he had known it was her first time. The others had assumed she knew everything (even though they clearly didn’t know what they were doing). Not that she had had to do that many things, mind. The Muggle boys had all seemed perfectly sated with her just lying there as they groped her breasts and trusted in and out of her a few times. She was actually quite relieved to have given up on them to tell the truth.

The only thing she knew about the art of seduction was from films and books. Though she doubted romance would work on Voldemort, and she didn’t felt comfortable at all being anything like the women in the more hardcore things she had seen. She hardly wanted to admit she had ever seen a porno to begin with!

Picking up the book about wandless magic again, she read the spells that was crucial for her plan once more. When Voldemort came, she needed to be as ready as she could be.

Unless…

She glanced over at the bed, and then to the door. Perhaps there was another way to seduce him, without having to actually do anything to him. It was not like anyone else came by anymore. Snape hadn’t been by since she had knocked him unconscious, and she was under the impression that he was not coming back. She would probably have to do it a few times per day, and it was always the chance that he would come by when she was eating or something. However, it wouldn’t hurt to try. Franny only came by when it was time for food, or when Hermione called. No one else would disturb her… and it would help her courage if she was already engaging in some sexual activity…

Trembling slightly of nerves, she stood up and removed the dress she was wearing, as well as the stockings. She went to bed in just her underwear and lay down, taking a few deep breaths.

_Relax, Hermione, you have done this in this room a million times. True, you no longer have a charm around you, making the other girls think you are asleep if they would walk in, but other than that…_

Turning around on the stomach, she moved a hand underneath her. She never had to bother with foreplay really. She was almost always horny, and all she had to do was let it come forth. She didn’t need much stimulation at all. When she slept, she usually dreamt vivid sexual dreams, but when she was masturbating while awake, all she needed was the touch.

She moved a finger under the hem of her knickers and started to stroke her clitoris. She wished she still had one of her sex toys. She loved to be stretched out around a hard, vibrating dildo. It had taken her many trails until she got them to work with magic instead of batteries, but it had been worth the money she had to spend on them. The first dozen had melted when she had tried the spell on them.

Having to do with her fingers, she pushed three inside of her at once. It was a tight squeeze, but very enjoyable. Moving her wrist, she pushed the finger in and out of her, while clenching her vagina muscles. She had read about how to do it in a Muggle sex-help book, and had to agree that it did make it more enjoyable, at least for her. It made the fingers inside of her feel even bigger, somehow.

She was just on the brink of climax when she heard the door open. Her first instinct was to roll off the bed and hide underneath it, but she forced it down. However, she didn’t dare turn around. Thus, she lay there, motionless.

“Should I come back later?” Voldemort’s high voice asked, clearly amused.

Beat red, she withdrew the fingers from inside her and slowly turned to her back. She crossed her arms over her naked chest.

“I-I didn’t think you’d come by today,” she stuttered. At least it was true. She had thought it would take more than one try.

“Is that so?” Voldemort purred, coming up to her bed. “Tell me, do you usually defile your bed in such manner when you think you are alone?”

Turning even redder, she looked down and nodded.

“Now why is that?” he asked.

She shrugged, still unable to look at him. This was a lot harder than when she had planned it in her head. “I-I’ve always done it. Since my second year.”

She felt the mattress tip as Voldemort sat down.

“If you are that … sexually frustrated, I’m certain that several Death Eaters wouldn’t mind paying you a visit,” Voldemort purred.

She looked up, terrified. “No!”

He looked even more amused. “If you don’t want company, you should refine from such activities, Miss Granger. Otherwise, people will get ideas.”

“But you are the only one that comes here,” she said, trying to stop herself from trembling.

“So this was for my benefit then?”

Her face felt as if it were on fire. She wanted to deny it. The way Voldemort said it made her sound dirty. But he was right, even if he didn’t know what she had planned.

Hesitating, she nodded.

When Voldemort didn’t respond, she glanced up at him. He looked mildly surprised, but even more calculating.

“And what makes you think I would be interested in a Mudblood?” he said cruelly.

The remark made her angry. She had hoped he would drop the game when she had told him she wanted to have sex with him. But it seemed like Lord Voldemort wanted to humiliate her further. Well, fine.

Summoning every ounce of bravery she had left, she threw herself on him, straddling his lap. Before he had time to push her away, she grinded down against his groin. To her great relief (she would have died of embarrassment if she had been wrong), he was hard as rock. However, Voldemort didn’t seem at all amused by her flash of triumph. He turned them around, and threw her down on the bed, his weight upon her, his wand against her throat.

“So you staged this in an attempt to seduce me?” Voldemort growled. “Now what do you think you will gain with that, Miss Granger? Because I can see that this is not the action of mere unsated lust.”

Hermione had been prepared for this accusation, and knew what she would say. She knew Voldemort had an uncanny ability to sense a lie, and she couldn’t risk it now.

“I-I …,” still, she hesitated. If Voldemort didn’t want to have sex with her after this, her plan would come crashing down. “My magic starts to malfunction when I haven’t had a proper orgasm in a while. I can only do it myself for so long, then I need something … bigger. I used to have toys, but now…”

She trailed off, not daring to look him in the eyes.

“I didn’t mean to curse Snape that way,” she continued in a low voice. “And I’m afraid that if I go much longer, something worse will happen. So when I noticed that you seemed to … want me, I guess, I decided to try.”

“And use me to satisfy your own needs?” he filled in.

She nodded. That was even truer than he knew. She hoped he only thought she meant in a sexual way.

Voldemort stroked her throat with his wand. “It seems that I have been too lenient with you, Miss Granger. Did you think I would just drop my trousers and thank my good fortune that Hermione Granger wants to take me to her bed?”

The way he said her name was the same way he said “Mudblood”. She didn’t like it one bit. However, before he had time to protest, his wand had come up to her face, pressing into her cheek.

“If I fuck you, Miss Granger, it will be in my way. That means that you’ll not do a thing unless I order you to it. I will decide what we do, and how, and you will thank me, your Lord and Master, for every touch I grant you, no matter if it’s painful or pleasurable. Is that understood?”

Hermione had assumed he would be rough and controlling. However, she had not completely realised how scary he would be. But she wasn’t as scared as she should be. As long as she climaxed, the more times the better, she would still come out at top, no matter what he tried to do to her.

“Yes,” she said, her voice breathless.

Voldemort eyed her for a moment. Perhaps he too thought she didn’t sound as scared as she ought to be. Thankfully, he didn’t comment on it, but set to action.

He sat up, pulling her up by the hair, and then aimed his wand at her. Her arms flew back behind her, and she could feel ropes appearing, binding them in place. Moving them to the side of the bed, he pushed her down.

She winced as she hit the floor with her shoulder first, not having been able to catch herself. Voldemort showed no sympathy.

“Get on your knees,” he ordered.

Suppressing a sigh, she did. She realised what he had in mind, and while she didn’t mind performing oral sex, it didn’t do that much for her, and she wanted to come. But she had a feeling this was just the beginning, and that her time would come.

Voldemort opened his robes, but did not remove them. Instead, he just let his cock out. It was big, both in length and girth, and her sex convulsed at the thought of having it inside her.

“I will allow you to suck my cock. What do you say?” he asked, his voice hard.

“Thank you, my Lord and Master,” she replied, trying really hard to keep the sarcasm out of her voice.

Voldemort snorted, telling her she hadn’t been very successful. “I expect you to tell me that with the utmost sincerity before the night is over, Granger.”

Before she could reply, he grabbed her hair in his fist and moved her face against his groin. She opened her mouth, taking the head into it. She was by no means an expert, but she knew the basics. Suck, lick, bob, watch out for the teeth. Voldemort, however, seemed to have other things in mind.

She hadn’t even had the chance to get used to the size of him, before he pushed her head down. His cock hit her gag-reflex. She could feel tears falling down her cheeks as she tried to stop herself from throwing up. Voldemort pushed on, moaning loudly in pleasure.

Hermione started to panic as the lack of oxygen became a problem. What in hell had she been thinking, having sex with Lord Voldemort? He was going to kill her! He had waited this long just to have her choke to death on his cock. This was it, she had once again taken on more than she could chew and it would be the death of—

She gasped when he suddenly withdrew, leaving her mouth empty. Tears were still streaming down her face as she took down deep gulps of air.

Before she had time to calm down and get her bearings, Voldemort had pulled her up by her hair again, and thrown her onto the bed. She let out a yelp of fear as she landed on her stomach.

Voldemort lay down next to her, his hand coming up on the swell of her arse.

“You seemed to like being fingered in this position,” he murmured into her ear as his right hand travelled down and in between her legs. “Now, what do you say?”

“Thank you, my Lord and Master,” she croaked, her throat feeling very sore.

“Better,” he said, and two of his fingers started to massage the area just outside of her labia, by the hem of her knickers. “Open your legs for me.”

Not wanting to know what he would do if she refused, she widened them about two inches.

As he continued to just massage the area around her cunt, Hermione could feel herself starting to relax and her breathing levelling. She knew she would have to relax if she were to climax. Thus, she closed her eyes and tried to focus more on the feeling than on the man who did it.

Though, she couldn’t help to think that he seemed to know a lot more about pleasing women than any of the other men he had been with. He seemed to know just when to press harder, and let his thumb come against her clitoris, and when to back away, teasingly stroking the inside of her thighs instead. It didn’t take long until she was breathing hard of pleasure instead.

“These are becoming ridiculously wet,” he suddenly said, stroking her knickers. “Perhaps I should remove them?”

“Yes, please,” Hermione breathed.

“I’m sure you can do better than that,” he stated, clearly amused.

It took her a moment before she realised what he meant. “Please, my Lord and Master.”

“Excellent, I almost believed that myself,” he chuckled and moved behind her, sitting down between her legs.

She felt his wand against her skin again, and the knickers disappeared. She couldn’t help but to wriggle. She would very much have liked to be able to move her arms and hand, but they stayed locked behind her back.

“You are not allowed to come until I tell you,” he ordered her.

Hermione hardly heard, because at the same time, he was lifting up her hips, forcing her to move to her knees to keep her balance. She had only ever tried this position with her dildo, but she was sure she would enjoy it just as much with a real penis. She almost trembled in anticipation, and she could feel her juices starting to run down her thighs.

Voldemort positioned himself at her opening, and started to push inside her. She could tell that he wanted to do it faster, but she was a lot smaller than him. Yet, it wasn’t painful. She was used to insert big dildos, and had started to associate the stretching sensation with pleasure. Thus, she moaned, loudly.

After a moment, he was completely inside her. She clenched her muscles around him, so close to an orgasm it was almost painful. Voldemort was holding a hard grip around her hips, keeping her still as she tried to push back against him.

“Patience, Granger,” he said, but his voice sounded a bit strained. He was clearly enjoying this as well.

He started to push in and out of her, picking up the speed as he went along.

Hermione usually preferred to have her clitoris stimulated, but Voldemort seemed to know just where to push to reach it from inside. He hit several sensitive spots that she hardly knew she had, making her drool in pleasure.

The orgasm surprised her when it came, spreading up through her body like warm sprays in the shower. It wasn’t as big as she would have hoped, or as big as she needed to go through with her plan. Voldemort, however, seemed to think it was too big.

He withdrew, making her groan unhappily. She wanted to be stuffed!

Voldemort slapped her behind. “What did I tell you?” he said harshly.

Had he told her something? Oh, right, she was only allowed to come when he told her. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t help it, it just came!”

He slapped her hard on the arse, making her wince slightly in pain. He then turned still, as if contemplating something.

“If you can’t control yourself when I’m in that hole, I will just have to use another,” he finally said, softly.

Hermione froze. Did he mean…? She felt something small and hard press against her puckered hole. His wand.

“For your sake, you better relax,” he told her.

Hermione took a deep breath. She had never tried to have analsex with another person before. She had tried to stimulate herself that way before (mostly because she found herself enjoying to read about it), but had never dared to try anything larger than a finger.

Yet, she somehow managed to relax enough to have the wand press inside her. It wasn’t an uncomfortable feeling, but she was nervous of what was to come.

She could hear Voldemort muttering a cleaning spell, as well as something else that turned out to be a lubrication spell. He then withdrew his wand and inserted a finger instead. He started to move it back and forth, slowly. She gasped in surprise of how enjoyable she found it. It was hard to explain, and maybe it was just her unusual high sex drive, but it felt like every nerve end around her anal was dancing in pleasure.

It wasn’t long until she started to rock back and forth against the finger, and she was rewarded by Voldemort adding another finger, stretching her opening.

If she had been any less horny, she would have been surprised over the fact that Voldemort didn’t seem to want to hurt her. Now, however, she was too busy moaning in pleasure.

He pushed in a third finger. “What do we say, Mudblood?”

“Thank you, my Lord and Master,” Hermione gasped breathlessly. “Thank you!”

Withdrawing the fingers, Voldemort lined up his cock again and slowly, much slower than earlier, started to push himself into her.

Without thinking, Hermione arched her back in a way which made the insertion easier. Her mouth had fallen open, her eyes staring blindly into the wall to her right.

Once he was inside of her, he paused. His hand came down to her cunt, and he trailed the path to her clitoris.

Hermione yelped, feeling as if she had been hit by lightning. Her clitoris was harder than ever, and emitting such pleasure that she almost passed out.

“I want you to come now, Granger,” Voldemort said. “I want you to be climaxing as I start to fuck your arse. And then when you have stopped coming, I will continue, and I will continue to fuck you raw until you come again, but the second time, you will get no extra stimulation. I want you to come knowing all it took was Lord Voldemort cock up your arse.”

He hardly had time to stop speaking when she came, much more forcefully than before. He let go of her clitoris and moved his hand up to her hip again, taking a hard grip as he began to thrust in and out of her.

Her climax went on for almost a minute, making the head hair at the back of her neck stand at its end. She realised she had been crying out, and as she came down, she closed her mouth, wishing once more she could move her arms. Strays of hair was sticking to her cheeks, which was wet of tears and saliva.

She was starting to think move clearheaded again and realised another fault in her plan. If she couldn’t move her arms, she couldn’t perform the magic she needed to do. She could feel the power having built up in her with her orgasms, but she had no way of using it.

Surely he would remove her bonds before leaving her? She would just have to wait until then and in the meantime, continue to enjoy herself. Another orgasm would make her even more powerful.

Closing her eyes, she surrendered once more to the feeling of him thrusting inside her. The pulling out motion was a lot more pleasurable than the pulling in, so Hermione focused on clenching her muscles when he pulled out. The clenching stimulated her clitoris too, and either Voldemort didn’t know this, or he didn’t care, because the only thing he did was starting to move faster.

She started to breathe harder again when she felt the next orgasm approach. It started as a soft buzz in her ears, and moved on to become a tidal wave through her body. She could hear herself screaming into the pillow.

Behind her, Voldemort’s started to thrust into her erratically and he groaned loudly as he too climaxed, filling her with his come.

He pulled out of her, and let go of her, and she couldn’t stop herself from losing her balance, falling down on her side in her mattress.

Voldemort moved from between her legs and fastened his robes again.

“Now,” he said, sounding a bit breathless as well as he sat down next to her. “What do we say?”

“Thank you, my Lord and Master,” she said hoarsely.

He smiled and stroked away the strays of hair from her cheeks. “I think we will make a faithful little servant out of you yet, my dear.”

He stood up. No! She had to use the spells on him so she could escape! She fought against the rope.

Voldemort noticed her struggling. However, instead of undoing them manually, he withdrew his wand and walked towards the door.

“Until next time, Mudblood.” He pointed the wand at her, and the bonds disappeared, but in the next second, the door closed behind him.

“No,” Hermione whispered, moving her hands up. She could practically feel the magic running off of her. She didn’t remember feeling this powerful before. If he had just been there, she could easily have defeated him.

But he was gone and her plan had failed.

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

On shaky legs, Hermione had managed to make her way into the bathroom. Now she sat in the bathtub, letting the hot water ease up the tension in her limbs. Her arms ached from being tied up for so long, and her legs felt weak from the tension. She had also managed to hurt her neck somehow, and she didn’t even want to think about her abused holes.

Well, it would all be over soon. She had read up on wandless healing as well, and she was powerful enough to perform them even without strong emotions. She was too tired for strong emotions.

Whispering the incantation, she could feel the magic starting to work at once. A couple of minutes later, she felt much better, even though she was still just as tired as before.

She sank deeper into the water and let the back of her head come to rest against the edge of the bathtub.

Voldemort hadn’t killed her, she reflected. He hadn’t even hurt her in any permanent way. It must mean he wanted to have sex with her again. When he did, she would be ready. She would read the books again and see if she could use any of the spells to undo knots. She knew it was possible, but she had to find a way where Voldemort wouldn’t realise she had done it until it was too late. His reflexes were faster than anything she had ever seen, and it was clear he had a lot of stamina.

Could she wear him out more the next time? There was other spells to increase her stamina as well. She could use a little of the power for that.

Though, it was possible that he would want to do something else the next time that complicated matters even more. Other type of restrictions, maybe?

She would have to be more prepared.

+++

Voldemort had thought that fucking Granger would get her out from under his skin. It hadn’t.

For the past three days, he had found himself thinking of little else than her. He could still feel her around his cock. Could still smell her in the air. Every time he fell asleep, he dreamed about her.

But he didn’t want to visit her again too soon. Not until he had his emotions under control. If he saw her now, he would jump her on the spot, like some hormone ridden teenager. That wouldn’t do.

When almost a week had passed, he decided that it would be safe to visit her. He had his cock under his control, and he needed to check up on her. She hadn’t seen anyone but the House-elf all week and it had said that Granger was restless and aggravated.

Once he entered the room, however, he saw that she was not there. For a moment, he thought that she had managed to escape, and a strange panic filled him. Then, he heard the toilet flush inside the bathroom, and the panic disappeared, and he decided not to acknowledge that it had ever existed.

Granger stopped in the doorway when she saw him. A flush crept up her face, but she looked at him with angry eyes.

“Good afternoon, Granger,” he said calmly, hiding every emotion he felt of seeing her.

She took a step into the room, slamming the bathroom door shut. “Didn’t expect to see you here again.”

“Oh?” he said lazily, making his way to the armchair, sitting down.

“I assumed you had got what you wanted,” she said angrily, coming over as well, but didn’t sit down in the opposite armchair.

“Fucking you was never my prerogative,” Voldemort lied effortlessly.

She flushed again, and he could see that she was both embarrassed and angry. Did she regret the sex, or was she embarrassed for wanting to experience it again?

“You seemed to like it a lot, though,” she remarked.

“Why wouldn’t I have liked it? Do you think so poorly of your performance? I assure you, you are quite talented.”

Her flush darkened. But then, as if remembering something, she slowly sat down in the armchair.

“So are you here because you want to do it again?” She didn’t meet his eyes.

She had waited for him, he realised. Waited for him to come by and have sex with her again. But why? Was she really that desperate for sexual stimulation? Or was she planning something else?

After everything he had read about her and seen when interacting with her, he was going to assume the later. Did she think she could catch him off-guard if they were fucking and take his wand or something? Knock him unconscious with a wandless spell? Or was it a more long-term plan? Perhaps she thought she would win his affection if she fucked him often enough?

Well, either way, she would be sadly mistaken. She had no idea how powerful he was. Or how many had tried to win his affection by either money or favours, even sexual. If none of them had managed, neither would she.

So should he let her live with her misguided plans and manipulate her, or crush her at once?

Seeing her nervously fingering the fabric of her skirt, he decided on the former. He didn’t think she would be fun for him for long, but since she still was, why break her already?

“Quite the opposite, Miss Granger,” Voldemort finally said, answering her question. “You are still here because I want to do it again.”

She looked up, eyes flashing in sudden fear, but then, determination set. She rose from the chair. “So you are keeping me as your pet.”

“For now, that is your only potential. Because you would never betray the memory of your friends,” he said slyly.

She didn’t comment, even though he could see the comment annoyed her. Instead, she came over to him and started to pull up her skirt. He smiled at her attempt to act as a seductress. She was much too nervous for that. But he let her continue to pull off the dress completely.

However, when she made a move to straddle him, he held up a hand. “I do believe I taught you something the last time?

She looked bemused for a few seconds, then he face fell, and she looked away. “Thank you, my Lord and Master for allowing me to have sex with you.”

He chuckled. “Not as enthusiastic as last time, but I’m confident we will get there.”

He allowed her to straddle his lap, but when she reached to undo his robe, he stopped her.

“Do you really think I’m that easy to excite? Miss Granger, you disappoint me. At least the last time, you put on a show,” he purred.

Her cheeks turned the same amusing shade of red as before, but she took a deep breath and closed her eyes for a second. When she opened them again, she also moved her hands up to her breasts.

Slowly, she started to massage them, her fingers fluttering over each nipple, taunting them hard. She stuck a finger into her mouth and trailed a wet circle on her right areola. Then she pulled at her own nipple, letting out a soft moan in pleasure.

He wondered where she had picked up that sort of behaviour, when she was clearly inexperienced with seduction. Most likely, she had read about it. There were books for everything.

She did the same with the other nipple and then carefully lifted her left breasts, bending her head down. Her breast was just big enough that she could lick her own nipple.

The sight was indeed as arousing as he had hoped. Then, he seemed to find everything she did arousing. But he wasn’t about to tell her that.

“Is this enough, my Lord?” she asked, her voice a bit breathless. “Or should I ... er, do something to you?”

“What did you have in mind?” he asked, using all the discipline he had to not just rip open his robe and take her across the coffee table.

“I could pleasure you with my mouth again,” she suggested. “Or stroke you with my hands.”

He glanced down at her right hand that was still holding her breast, and the urge to have it wrapped around his cock overpowered him.

“The latter will do, for now,” he said, his voice steady.

She opened his robe and as she searched for a way to open his pants, she stroked him through the fabric. He closed his eyes for a second, as to not betray how delicious it felt. He had already fucked her once, how could her mere touch feel even better this time around?

Finally, she managed to unbutton his pants, and his cock was free from the prison of fabric. She slowly stroked the head, smearing the pre-come out. Her small fingers were soft and warm against his cock, sending lightening of pleasure through his body. His balls were already beginning to tighten, but he couldn’t come yet. The fun was just starting!

He looked up at Granger’s face again and was surprised by the raw hunger in her eyes. She wanted his cock more than her next breath. The knowledge pleased him just as much as the touch, and urged him to hurry this up. Perhaps if he came once, he would be more level headed and able to play with her more thoroughly.

Startling her by grabbing her hips, he moved her against him. He moved one hand up between her legs, feeling her as wet as the last time.

He separated her labia and moved her down over his cock.

Both of them groaned as he entered her, but hers was a lot louder than his had been.

She was already pulsating around him, as if she was about to come. It was remarkable how little stimulation she needed. He had to silently congratulate her that she was such a dedicated student. Most teenagers in her position would just run around looking for the next shag. But not her.

He pumped up into her vigorously and she slammed down at him with equal force. She was gloriously tight and her heat was spreading through his cock up the rest of his body until his entire being felt consumed by flames.

As her climax swept through her, her hand came down on his chest. At first he thought it was only so she could keep herself steady.

That was his first mistake.

Cold swept through his body when he felt himself become paralysed.

Granger took a deep breath. Even though he couldn’t move, he could still feel her shuddering around his cock. After just a few seconds, though, she managed to rise, wriggling out from his lap.

Moving more quickly, she pulled on her dress again. The shock that she had managed to put a spell on him started to change into fury. How dare the little Mudblood do this? Oh, he would curse her within the inch of his life. She would know pain like no one!

Granger looked quite scared as she approached him again. She poked him, but even though he tried to break through the spell, he couldn’t. He had seriously underestimated her ability to do wandless magic. She hadn’t been this strong before! Not even when she had cursed Snape had he detected this strong magic. Was it after all true that she became stronger through sex? How was that possible?

“I’ll just take this,” Granger mumbled and grasped his left hand, undoing the concealment charm over his wand. “Seems only fair since you took my wand.”

With a last look at him, she opened the window and wriggled her way up on the window still. The next moment, she had thrown herself out of the window.

She was gone, and Voldemort was alone, petrified, his cock still hard and glistering of her juices.

+++

Hermione didn’t dare to hope that her plan had actually succeeded until she was deep inside the Forbidden Forest. It was surprisingly easy to do magic with Voldemort’s wand, and she had covered her tracks. Even though Voldemort most likely had broken through her spell now, he wouldn’t find her until it was too late. Just a little longer, and she would be able to Apparate.

She wasn’t exactly sure how long she had been half walking, half jogging, but it must have been almost an hour. She knew from Hogwarts, a history that the wards extended for as long as there were magical animals around. It would have been closer to go to Hogsmeade, but she was quite sure she would have to duel her way out then. And with another person’s wand, she rather duel dangerous animals instead of Death Eaters.

She reached a small clearing around a stream and decided to take a small break and drink some water. She hadn’t brought anything else with her than the clothes she was wearing, figuring she could steal food from a Muggle store. Even if she was morally against it, she was desperate. Once she had some money of her own, she could always pay them back.

Using the wand, she transfigured a stone into a cup and filled it with water from the stream. Another spell purified it and she drank greedily.

Something white flashed by the corner of her eye. She looked up, her (or well, Voldemort’s) wand raised.

It was a unicorn. No, unicorns. One was coming closer to her, but she could see others standing behind the trees.

She rose. Unicorns were gentle creatures and didn’t usually harm anyone, but if she was trespassing into her territory, they could drive her out by acting threatening.

“Eh, hello,” she said hesitatingly. “I hope I’m not disturbing you, I was just passing by.”

She knew unicorns were clever enough to understand human speech if they had heard it before, and she knew Hagrid had spoken to the herd in the Forbidden Forest.

The unicorn came closer, but it didn’t seem to want to threaten. Instead, he (somehow, she got the feeling it was male) buffed his head against her shoulder, almost playfully.

Hermione smiled, at once feeling more relaxed than she had in weeks. With the unicorns here, everything would be alright. She brought her hand up to his neck and stroked it. However, as she did, she could feel herself connecting with the unicorn.

She had never really experienced Legilimency, but from what she had read, this was similar to it. The outside world disappeared from her and in her mind, she saw the unicorns.

They didn’t speak in words, but she still got the feeling of what they were telling her. The herd had lived a good life in the forest for decennial. She saw foals being born, growing up and then dying of old age. There was a lot of happiness in the unicorns’ lives. She could feel the sun and moon on their skin, the taste of grass and leafs, the curiosity of other magical creatures. Sometimes, humans had come into the forest and the unicorns had allowed them to harvest some of their hair and horns. In return, the humans had given them yummy food they didn’t usually find, shelter and in some cases protection. Dark wizards had always been greedy for more than what the unicorns were willing to give.

She felt their fear and worry every time they sensed a dark wizard approaching. The smell of them was horrible, like rotten fish and moulded leaves. Often, they managed to escape, but every now and again, someone died.

The unicorns mourned their dead, but they knew that the world had darkness in it, and not everyone survived. It was the way of the world. Besides, killing a unicorn tainted the dark wizard’s soul, making him or her cursed in a way they didn’t fully understand. But the wizard would always feel like something was missing, they would never feel like they belonged in the world again. It was enough of a punishment.

At least that was what they had felt before. But now, another one had come. A darker one. A greedier one.

When he had slain the first unicorn, the others had just mourned. But he had come back for more, and more. That was when the unicorn decided that they couldn’t let it pass. The wizard didn’t care about his soul, and he had so little left, and it was so tainted that their normal curse hardly affected him.

Thus they had decided to curse him more by blessing another. A champion for them.

Hermione saw herself. She was walking in the Forbidden Forest together with Hagrid and Neville. She was much younger than now, and Hermione recognised it as the time she and Harry had got into detention for helping Hagrid smuggle away his pet dragon to Charlie.

The unicorns had watched them as they found their dead kin. They had recognised her horror, and seem that she was a good, pure soul. It was strange seeing herself from their perspective. Even though she recognised herself, there was more to her than she would see in a mirror. There was an aura around her, golden as the colour of a unicorn foal.

Then she saw magic in the air, the unicorn’s magic. Silvery white, it reached out towards her twelve year old self, hitting her. Her aura changed, from gold to the purest white, and at the same time, the memory-Hermione gasped.

Current date Hermione knew what had happened. It was when she had got her period.

But why? The question formed in her mind, and the unicorn sensed it.

The scenery of the dark forest changed to another scene of the forest. Hermione blushed when she saw two unicorns mating. But as she watched, realisation hit her. She couldn’t really tell how she knew, but as the two unicorns reached their climax, the air around them seemed to lighten. They had become more powerful, magically. The unicorns felt it in their very blood, making them stronger and faster.

Relief flooded her. This was the answer she had always sought. As to why her sex-drive was so much higher, and why she needed to come so badly. It wasn’t at all because she was strange in any way, or cursed. Just the opposite, the unicorns has blessed her with a bit of their powers. The creature considered to be the purest of them all had more sex than any other creatures! If humans knew that, they would probably not consider them so pure anymore. After all, humans thought too much sex was bad, and some even thought it was sinful to have sex for pleasure. Hermione had thought so herself at some times. But she wasn’t bad.

However, the relief was short lived when the scenery changed again. Darkness fell, and she could see Voldemort walking through the forest with his Death Eaters. They were looking for something. For her!

The unicorn quickly assured her that she had nothing to worry about. They were protecting her. Voldemort wouldn’t be able to find her, but he would want to, badly, because he was addicted to her.

She understood why the unicorns had blessed her. Because he had drunken unicorn blood, he would always be craving more, even though he didn’t realise it himself. She gave him the same feeling of addiction. He could not kill her, because his need for her was so great, and would grow even greater now when they are copulated. That was his curse. He would never get enough of her, no matter if he had her or not.

And it would drive him insane to the point where he lost his magic and all sense of self.

Hermione gasped and stumbled backwards, breaking the mental connection with the unicorn. Who on earth would have thought unicorns were so ruthless? Or well, maybe ruthless was the wrong word. They were protecting their own kind by making sure someone who was hurting them would stop. They just did it in a ruthless way.

Then she realised the ramification did had for her. “He will be looking for me.”

The unicorn inclined its head and came closer again, taking up their connection.

They would protect her. Now when the curse had reached it maximum, it wouldn’t be long until Voldemort was gone. The unicorns would make sure she was safe with them. He would search the world and she would be here, just waiting for him to go insane.

Then, she would avenge her friends and take back Hogwarts.

 

 

 

THE END


End file.
